


Follow me (down the streams of sweat on your body)

by NoemiTenshi



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Experimental writing, F/M, Fluff, No Beta We Die Like Troy, Not sure about the pairing, PICK YOUR POISON, POV First Person, PWP, Self-Indulgent Daydream, Shameless Smut, Troy Otto Imagine, Troy Otto has a Praise Kink, Troy Otto/Any Female (Canon) Character basically, Troy Otto/Author?, Troy Otto/OC?, Troy Otto/Reader?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoemiTenshi/pseuds/NoemiTenshi
Summary: Gather 'round kids (and with kids I 100% meanexclusivelyfully consenting adults, I am not kidding about the rating) and let me tell you about the time Troy Otto was on his knees for me.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Follow me (down the streams of sweat on your body)

God I wanna slowly take of all his clothes.

Imma start with that belt – which will make a very satisfying _thunk_ when I drop it to the ground.

Next that shirt, oh, that shirt!

Which already begs to be grabbed at the collar to lay more of his neck and shoulder bare. Which I'll definitely have to taste (yeah I’m 100% ignoring that he's probably covered in dust/sand - don’t come with realism into my daydream).

So my hands will slowly open the buttons and want to be distracted by every new strip of naked skin that is revealed. But oh! he's wearing something underneath that shirt.

Interesssting.

Right, his shirt which I've now opened completely, his second shirt is very tight, this way it's almost like caressing his skin.

Now he still has his gun in hands, which also _yum_ , so I'll be slowly pulling his shirt down his arms (but not completely), stroking along his arms until I reach his fingers, and take them very tenderly into my own, while taking the gun away with the other hand. My fingers will stay a bit with his, dancing together, promising pleasure.

So you have to imagine the sight he is right now: all flushed with pleasure, eyes still closed like in the picture because _damn_ , shirt is half off, pushed off one shoulder and hanging in his elbow, his breathing is slightly accelerated but he's not making a sound because I told him not to. Also now that his gun isn't obstructing the view the slight traitorous tenting of his trousers can be seen by keen eyes.

Anyway, at some point I'm gonna still his fingers, place a kiss (or several) on his knuckles and put his hand back on his thigh like it was before.

Ok, maybe before letting his hand go I also can't resist putting it on my cheek, slowly moving against his palm and dragging my lips along his thumb, but who knows, right?

And of course his hand will twitch in response to that, maybe it'll even draw a sharp intake of breath and he might even press his palm more firmly against my cheek, his thumb against my lower lip, sneakily opening my mouth further. Which just gets him a warning bite since he's not really supposed to take the lead, he has to follow.

(Also I'll almost immediately will kiss it better because he understood and stopped)

Right, so his hand back on his thigh, and I'm standing up now, which does worry him for a bit, he opens his eyes and looks pleadingly at me, maybe doing a little head-tilt which is mostly unsure, a question. Of course not saying anything, because that rule still applies.

So I'll go around him, kneeling behind him, my hand on his shoulder and he'll relax when he understands I'm not leaving and his next exhale is longer, a sigh of relief and he bows his head which does present the nape of his neck conveniently so what else am I supposed to do but give him little kisses there that soon turn into longer ones? And I’ll move along to his neck, nibbling on his sensitive skin maybe even leaving a tiny bruise here or there. And he'll tilt his head to give me better access and it'll also fall back a bit (like it is in the picture, just more tilted), searching for support, his whole upper body is actually leaning back, needing to feel supported.

He also needs a bit of different positive attention. So I'll be moving from his neck to his ear next, because nibbling there is also fun plus I can tell him in a low voice, whispering (because fun and also it's a bit like we're sharing a secret) how good he's doing, how well he's following my orders, how impressed I am with his self-control.

He just can’t get enough of the praise, so his fingers are digging into his thighs so he does not move too much (since that’s also not allowed – yeah I’m mean).

Anyway, Troy is having trouble controlling his reactions since all he wants to do is take me into his arms and bury himself in me, so he is trying to distract himself by concentrating on the pain of digging his fingers into his thighs, but it that’s barely working, he is trembling with the effort.

He's also trembling with the emotions welling up. Hearing how good he is and how impressed I am is making his throat constrict and his eyes prick with tears because he'd given up on ever hearing anybody say that and he'd convinced himself that this was fine, that it was enough that he knew he was being needed, the Ranch did need him, and he didn’t need recognition for it, or so he'd thought.

How. Wrong. He. Was.

So I'm still telling him very firmly how great he's doing and how good he's being and I'm pulling him a bit closer, to signal that he can and should lean on me, I'm here for him. And he's slowly regaining his composure, because the _here and now_ is important, nothing else, and he wants to savor it so he concentrates on the good feelings he's having with fervor.

Which quickly has him moaning low.

Now it's getting hard for me to restrain myself too, but I had a plan and I wanna see it through.

So he gets a last very thorough nibbling kiss on his ear and then I move back a bit, so I can pull his shirt all the way down and am simultaneously tugging at his arms. He gets what I’m trying to do and very willingly he let's me pull his hands on his back, where I am using the shirt now to tie them – so it's easier for him to resist moving of course.

I am very helpful.

Also the way his hands are bound now emphasizes his muscles (maybe also because he's a bit tense, though I wouldn’t know why) and there's really nothing else to do but with teasing fingertips go slowly up his arms and trace the muscles which might tickle a bit. But still no moving allowed.

Also he's totally getting a full body hug from behind and my hands do take their time to explore his chest, most definitely gracing his nipples which makes him exhale sharply and squirm a bit – not sure yet whether he wants more or wants to stop that sensation since it's making it hard for him to stay still. My hands dip lower to his stomach, taking their time (and yes my upper body might be pressed up against his arms now, because come on I need to feel some friction too – I mean it's about him but I'm no saint) and lower still but since I'm just teasing they'll return again up.

Ok so the little sneak is totally moving his arms too, hoping probably that iIll lose my self-control, or maybe it's just a very nice feeling (also yes, two things can be true at the same time), so I'm moving away (regretfully) and not without a last, especially slow _pressing-back_ into him. The moment I leave he let's a whimper escape and coming back to himself he tries to get his breathing under control. Which he fails at, he's puffing short breaths through his mouth that probably fell open way back when I started kissing his neck and never really closed again.

I also need a moment to calm down enough so I can face him without getting overwhelmed by the sight of him.

And _oh_ what a sight it is!

Picture him on his knees like in the picture.

Just – a lot more worked up.

And also no shirt anymore.

And also hands behind his back.

And also open-mouthed and hooded eyes and a hungry expression or a needy one. Probably both. He can't decide whether he wants to beg or demand.

Oh and still trembling a bit and that needy expression is totally him asking: Did I do good again?

So of course I have to take his precious beautiful face into my hands and cover his pleading mouth with mine.

Now he's equally glad and angry at his restraints since he just wants to hold me close but also he knows that he probably wouldn't have enough self-control (he's wrong, he totally has enough self-control) to stop himself from doing just that.

I, of course, are not hindered by anything to do just that, hold him close, sinking a hand into his hair, while deepening the kiss, all the while shouting in my mind to PACE MYSELF.

(Which reaaally isn’t easy especially not while I'm kneeling before him, one of my knee in between his which is pressing his erection against my leg and that's just mouth-watering).

So with one last lingering kiss I’m moving a bit away again and we just look at each other, both with silly little smiles on our faces and maybe also blushing a bit but the love and affection in the other's eyes makes it hard to look away.

And suddenly I have to give him a hug, maybe to hide my face for a bit, but also definitely because I want to reach inside his boot where I know he has a knife, and that makes it easier to sneakily do that. He's totally taking advantage of my neck being near his mouth and proceeds to pay me back a little for before. Though he's very conscious of not moving too much (even though I'd probably let that slide).

So this time I may be whimpering a bit and it takes me a lot longer than it should to get that knife.

Which is making him be all proud of himself and smirking.

Finally (or sadly) I got the knife out and sit back a little again. Which makes Troy notice the knife too.

And he's mostly surprised, maybe a bit apprehensive, because did he maybe just break a rule? And what did I plan to do about it? But my expression is cheeky, so he doesn't worry too much and is mostly just curious about what comes next.

He doesn't even flinch when I set that knife against his collarbone (because well I'm curious too), very softly since I don’t wanna hurt him, not really, and then I move on to cutting that shirt off him, since with his hands bound getting it off any other way would be very hard.

Which makes him smirk by the way.

He thinks that's really cute

I wanna run the tip of the knife all along his torso... very lightly, no nicking of skin.

He's soooo ready for this.

Holding onto his last shred of self-control.

Admirable.

While he just wants to break down and beg.

I look for signs of fear in his expression while doing exactly what I wanted, but there's only that hungry look.

Which is doing things to me ooomg.

And also HOW CAN I NOT TOUCH HIM now!? I can't not, so the knife is tossed away pretty soon and my hands reach out to him.

One on the side of his face, which he immediately cuddles into. Though the way he's moving his head against my hand is maybe too debauched to be described as "cuddling".

The other hand is on his collarbone and I can feel his chest heaving which is making me smile a secret smile.

The hand on his face does offer him pressure and the one on his chest slowly slowly starts exploring his heated skin, almost dreamily stroking to and fro. Each time I “accidentally” drag my palm over his hardened nipples my smile deepens while he groans and subtly shifts his mouth against my hand to drown out further moans. And I have to force myself not to stay there too long because the way it feels against my soft palm is amazing and my mouth goes dry at imagining my tongue in place of my hands.

All the while I'm still looking at him as to not miss a single expression, a single twitch.

He is still breathing hard, his chest is still rising very visibly and fast, and some sweat droplets are running down his temples, the side of his neck. His brows are desperately arched, his mouth is still half opened and he's sucked his lower lip in, biting it rather viciously in an attempt to alleviate his need to be kissed right now. he _wants_. Oh, he doesn't know where to start, how to ask for it but he wants. So. Much. More.

Im moving closer to him, placing one knee in between his (😏) and he goes all "nnHa!" because it's at the same time too much and not enough pressure. This also allows me to comfortably sit on his thigh and I scoot a bit closer still, because, _that friction_ , and he's looking at me all eagerly and pleadingly, and _o_ _h_ _fuck_ the sight of him! (Maybe I also said that aloud, judging from his slight smile)

And my hand on his face grips him forcefully and the other sinks into his unkempt hair, holding on for dear life and he's straining forward and this time he's the one initiating the kiss because his patience only goes so far. And it's almost violent, the way he plunders my mouth, desperate and hungry. We press together even further and I may have started moving my pelvis in small circles, quickly losing myself in that kiss. And he’s started moving too, wanting, needing to rub his erection against my conveniently placed knee. He’s probably not even really aware of doing that, just blindly seeking whatever brings him pleasure.

Before it gets out of control I tear myself away, breathing hard and swallowing reflexively a few times. The shock of my sudden loss stills him and finally he notices how he’s been moving before. He throws me an apprehensive and probing look. Because surely I must have noticed too but if not he doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

Of course I’ve noticed but this is still firmly within the parameters of “move as little as possible” and I do see that it wasn’t physically possible for him to move any less. (I'm not a monster)

I know if I look upon his face now, see that hungry and desperate expression there I won’t be able to exercise any self-control, so I do avert my eyes.

Which puts his chest into my line of sight and I just have to reverently stroke it, and he let’s out an almost frustrated huff. I smirk at that and watch my fingers play across his chest, still firmly not looking at him.

Alright so my hands are now occupied but my mouth is not and I still have to fight hard not to just kiss him again.

So I do the next best thing and start kissing his beautiful throat. I can taste his sweat and I can almost hear the blood pounding, rushing through his veins.

His frustrated huffs have turned into groans, but there's still an undercurrent of exasperation in them.

I do want, need to hear him moan again, lost to the world, so I dip lower and close my mouth around his nipple, tonguing it thoroughly, enjoying that feeling. My hands are blindly roaming over him, one settling on his forearm, fingers digging in to steady myself, the other still on his chest, rubbing a bit too harshly maybe over his other nipple. But I can’t get enough of the feeling of that hardness against my soft palm (maybe partly because it reminds me of other hard places, who knows).

His frustrated groans have turned into eager moans again. Which is making me feel all smug and pleased and happy because I _did that_. And now I can’t stop myself anymore, the urge to see his face again is overwhelming, so I do.

He looks wrecked.

His pupils are blown wide with want, unseeing, his nostrils flaring with the effort to draw in breaths, his mouth open and trembling, begging to be used. And since I'm not a savage I do oblige him.

Though since I’m very much aware of how close the last kiss brought me to losing control, I offer him my throat instead of my mouth. My hands go around his neck and bury deep in his hair, pushing his mouth against my skin.

He wastes no time and latches on desperately, leaving sloppy kisses and nibbles all over. He can’t seem to decide whether he just wants to suck on the skin until it bruises or if he wants to cover as much skin as possible in kisses.

Now I’m the one moaning in bliss, squirming, and I think that I might feel him smirking against my skin. But I can’t let go yet and he feverishly continues his path downwards, to my collarbone and further down. I groan encouragingly and arch my back so it’s easier for him to reach my breasts. He tries to tease for a bit, swiping his tongue into the neckline of the dress, not nearly far enough.

“Mmore,” I demand on a sigh and he reacts almost instantly, closing his mouth obediently over my nipple. He’s too far gone to be careful, the force with which he pulls my still covered nipple into his mouth is almost too much and it makes my mouth go dry. I have taken away most ways in which he could express his need and so he puts all of it into this gesture.

I feel myself growing weak-kneed, ready to give in and give him what he so obviously, despairingly desires. (What I _made_ him desire.)

In the meantime he realized that he may be hurting me so he’s laying soft apologetic kisses on the abused skin. Those make it even harder for me to resist him. I need a respite but stepping away seems too cruel. So I do the next best thing, laying a lingering kiss on his forehead, and turning around. Deep. Breath.

I put my head back and stretch a bit, so that his mouth is on my shoulder now. He takes the invitation with a small whine, frustrated again.

But I don’t care about that, I am trying to calm my racing heart, _at least a little_. Troy is moving restlessly along my back, disgruntled.

Then I bow my back because the way the (partly wet) material of my dress stretches over my nipples (due to my arched back) is too much right now and I still need to concentrate on just breathing.

Since my head is bowed my line of sight falls to his tented trousers – and I notice a suspicious dark spot, making me smile. Troy is still covering my back in lingering butterfly kisses that send a prickling feeling all over me. He moves lower and lower down my spine which makes me think of other places he could put his mouth to, until he stops suddenly.

I worry about that, have the sudden urge to check up on him, make sure everything’s ok. But then I do realize that he stopped over the bow holding the dress together. I breathe a sigh of relief. “I do like how your mind works,” I tease, “Go on then, open it if you can”

He started tugging on the bow as soon as I said “Go on then”, grunting in effort. He is struggling with it and I do wish I could see those emotions play out over his face. Finally the bow falls open and since I’m still leaning forward, the straps slip from my shoulders.

He stares at my naked back for a second. Then he lets out a little exhale and bends forward, leaving sensual, lingering kisses on it. He takes his time, uses his mouth and tongue expertly and I start trembling.

He is, too. Which makes me snap out of it when I notice, and with great difficulty I tear myself away from his avid mouth. He doesn’t protest this time. I stumble a bit while trying to stand, trying to get more distance between us. Trying to get control back. I turn to face him and he is looking at me through hooded eyes, breathing hard, but that desperate expression is mostly gone and he looks almost smug.

I wet my lips in thought, noticing how he notices, breathing hard. Which draws my attention to my disheveled state. So I decide to go with the flow and fully pull the top part of the dress down, freeing my arms from the straps. I look at Troy again who tries to appear unaffected but he can’t stop staring at my naked breasts, probably can’t stop himself from thinking “finally”. But the smugness is still there so I slowly reach under the dress, making sure his view is actually obstructed still by the dress, and take off my panties, stepping out of them.

His eyes drop low to where the panties lie and then his gaze travels up again, slowly, slowly, and he tries to hide it but I can see hope in it. I smile a self-satisfied smile, move towards him with intent and say “Your turn now” while picking up the knife I dropped previously.

Troy is practically vibrating in anticipation, I can see him mouthing “please.”

I set the knife against his thigh and he reflexively flinches back a bit. “You wanna hold real still for the next part” I advice conversationally, “Wouldn’t wanna nick anything precious, now would we?” He tenses in response, jaw clenched shut, muscles working in his throat, and he’s breathing in short shallow gasps. “Good” I praise him. And add lower “Don’t move.” Then I unceremoniously cut off his trousers and boxers. I am impatient and it shows. Troy hisses while I rid him roughly of the stripes of clothes.

And I can’t help myself, I need to feel his cock in my hand, and without consciously deciding to my hand is grazing agonizingly slow along the shaft, delighting in the feel of it, the oh so delicate skin there, pulled tight, how his cock leaps against my fingers, how I can feel the veins, the drops of precum.

All. mine.

(The other hand scratches down his chest in search of support.)

And oh! the way he reacts to it. Sharp hiss, intake of breath, a low whine in the back of his throat. But it’s not enough to drown out a growled “Yesss.” so full of want, no, _need_ it no longer sounds like a word.

And my mouth feels an emptiness I long to fill but a quick glance at his face, the tight, pained expression there tells me that I shouldn’t.

In a swift move I’ve positioned my knees outside his, our chests pressed together flush, and I am just hovering over his cock, circling the tip. I didn’t think it was possible, but he tenses even further and his eyes snap open, looking at me wildly, almost scared. He can’t take much more.

I can’t stop the reflexive open-mouthed smile and without looking away I sink down slowly. And OH SHIT I may have miscalculated – the way he feels inside me makes me almost break down. And I need all my self-control to concentrate so I don’t feel too much, so I don’t chase after that high.

“God, pleaase!” he cries out at the same time in a choked voice, and then adds a resigned second, “Please.”

Now his eyes are shut tight, his cheeks are hollowed out, the effort it takes him to hold (mostly) still clearly written in his expression. My hands stroke along his jaw, his cheeks, almost in apology.

“Alright,” I allow gracefully, though it is hard for me to speak in full sentences, “You’ve been – ah – so good – you don’t, don’t have to be quiet. Any. More.”

“Oh _god_. Shitshitshitshitshit!” he gasps out, “I need to – I need – _move_! Please, please, babe, I need–.” He clenches his jaw and his lips are pulled back in a snarl. Because I’ve deliberately misunderstood him and started moving, just a tiny little roll of my hips and it costs me everything to leave it at that. (I seriously should stop teasing him before I lose myself but – how can I not? When he has the most delicious reactions to it.)

He looks betrayed now, expression stricken and eyes damp, mouth down-turned.

I tilt my head in sympathy. “Ssh, it’s o-k,” I have to pause for a second, gather my self-control, “let me – your hands.” Ok so I’ve lost the ability to speak in full sentences, too. “Brace yourself” I warn, take the knife and then I have to do some awkward shifting, to reach his hands. The second they are free they fly around me, holding me, crushing me to him, like I’m his lifeline.

“Wait,” I stop him before he can do more and he huffs angrily, snarl back.

“Make me – come first,” I demand in between gasps. He starts shaking his head. “Nnno, I can’t! Please, _please_ don’t” I watch him carefully, waiting for a sign that he actually means the “No”. “You really want me to stop, you know what to say,” I say softly. He refuses to speak the words and still shakes his head. I see, alright then.

“You _can_ do this. I know it. I believe in you.” I say then, intently looking at him, putting all the confidence and love and admiration I have for him into the words.

He closes his eyes in defeat, steeling himself. Then he reaches between us –I think I manage to gasp out a “Good boy” but who knows – and with erratic, careless movements he starts circling,rubbing my clit.

It. Feels. Divine.

I can’t get enough of how his fingers feel against me, the way he has surrendered, the way he’s trying _so well_ to fulfill all my demands the way he fights his own needs, desires for me – and I move against his hand greedily, with no thought towards what that does to him, seeking _more,_ which may make him tense even further but I can’t be sure, I can’t concentrate on anything else but this feeling, rising in me, peaking.

He doesn’t wait, not even a second, for me to ride the orgasm out, he’s a flurry of motion now, shifting us, so my back is against the earth, so he has better leverage, his mouth finds my throat, _gnawing_ at the skin there, one hand kneading, pinching, my breast. He’s harshly thrusting into me, angrily, desperately seeking release. I’m pretty sure he’d be calling me names now if he wasn’t too far gone, if he hadn’t lost all coherence, the only sounds he is able to emit being deep moans, reverberating through his whole body.

_F_ _uck_ , but he is glorious.

I tell him that and he shudders into his orgasm. I hold him through it, stroking his back, humming encouragingly. His movements slow and finally all tension leaves him and he burrows his head where my shoulder meets my neck. My hands move to his head, combing through his hair, caressing his cheeks.

“Amazing,” I praise him empathically, “You did _so good_ , Troy. You did amazing. If only you could’ve _seen_ yourself” – I am sure he hears the smile in my voice, my delight in him – “You were stunning! I am. So. Proud. of you.”

He does lift his head at that and gives me a shy, somewhat guarded smile. “Just incredible” I reaffirm before I kiss him sweetly but shortly. He lays his head down again and is now watching me.

“You’re a wonder and I _adore_ you,” I tell him firmly, “Good god, the way you held it together, the way you followed my instructions,” I shake my head in disbelief, soft smile playing on my lips, “It was breathtaking.” His smile grows bolder now. Good. I kiss his cheeks and the corner of his lips. He tilts his head and captures my lips.

“Think you can stand yet?” I ask after, conspiratorially. He gives me a lazy look and raises his eyebrows.

“I have a surprise for you, come on” I say and smirk. “Ugh, woman, I already did everything you asked. Let me be.” He’s cute, when he’s grumpy and I tell him so. He rolls his eyes but can’t hide how happy that makes him, being called cute.

“You’ll love it, trust me,” I promise. His gaze grows soft at “trust me” and he says,

“You know I do.”

“Come on,” I prompt again and offer him my hand. He makes a show of standing up and we giggle over parts of his pants that I haven’t gotten to taking off yet. He’s a bit unsteady since kneeling in the same position left its mark and I let him lean on me, carrying part of his weight. We don’t have to walk far and he lets out delighted laughter when he sees.

“ _You’re_ amazing,” he says. Then he adds musingly, “Or insane.” I laugh.

I’ve set up a little make-shift camp so we could snuggle cozily some more. But what really got him was the solar shower I set up as well as the diy-bathtub made out of pallets and lined with plastic.

I tug him along under the shower and am quick but thorough in cleaning him, still conscious of the way he sways a bit on his feet. He uses the pretense of cleaning me to thoroughly fondle my breasts, making me giggle. Though the shower does not have a lot of water so after a quick rinse we move on, our hands still on each other in gentle and sometimes greedy touches.

He steps into the bathtub carefully and sighs. I imagine it must feel soothing, the warm water on his poor, strained muscles.

“Let me do your hair,” I offer. He “hmm”s and obediently lays his head back. I start lathering his hair slowly but with strong fingers. He hums a bit lower at that, clearly enjoying it. So I take my time, massaging his head diligently.

Next, I rinse carefully, combing through his hair, getting every last bit of shampoo out. He has his eyes closed, a rare relaxed expression on his face. Good. I am satisfied with the state of his hair and move slowly down his neck, along his shoulders, nimble fingers loosening his tense muscles there.

Little content sighs and small moans escape him. I slowly move down one arm, to his hand, his fingers, back up again and to the other. He is giving me sidelong glances once in a while, like he can’t quite believe that I would go out of my way to care for him.

When I’m done with his second hand, I squeeze his fingers reassuringly and I don’t miss the chance to kiss his knuckles, an adoring press of my lips against his skin.

He grabs my hand and tugs me to him, I didn’t expect that, almost lose my balance and he grins before laying soft kisses all over my face, now that I am near enough to do that. I enjoy that for a moment before I tilt my head a bit so our lips meet, moving against each other. Our fingers keep winding and unwinding and I start slowly standing, he’s following me, not wanting to break our connection yet. But he has to, so he can stand, too. I duck away, grabbing a towel I stored earlier and beckon him out. Wrapping him in the towel, I dry him off slowly, then lead him to the cozy blankets I had laid out earlier. I also thought of clothes and we both slip into button-up shirts. He starts to towel of his legs, next, but I stay his hands, firmly, taking over.

“I _am_ capable of doing that,” he grouses. I just give him a disapproving look that turns pouting, to soften the blow.

“I want to do it,” I say. I’ve already started and I guess it must feel nice because he just gives me a tiny, halfhearted eye-roll while he’s relaxing again, but he needs to have the last word.

“Next time, you’ll be the one on your knees,” he says, all thoughtful.

I have to grin at that and say “Alright, next time,” agreeably. He relaxes fully at that answer. I want to keep him like that as long as possible. When most of his legs are dry I motion for him to sit and turn to his sandy feet. I take great care in wiping every last grain of sand away and he has started his contented humming again. I put the towel away and experimentally start digging my fingers into his calf, hoping to ease these muscles, too. He makes a deeper, approving sound.

“Turn around,” I command and he does. I take my time and observe Troy’s reactions, closely. He must’ve turned sluggish now, all comforted, secure and loved. When I’m done I lay down next to him and he takes me into his arms, snuggling his head against mine.

We start dozing off.

And maybe we have sex a second time, while we’re in this in-between state of not-asleep and not-awake. Slow and languid, lazy, even. This time it’s more about feeling connected than chasing the high.

After, he falls into a deep slumber. I keep watch.


End file.
